AFTERMATH
by Michmak
Summary: Sara and Nick story all the way here. Angsty. VERY STRONG PG13 rec. here. Borderline R. CHAPTER TWO UP
1. Default Chapter

Title: AFTERMATH  
  
Author: Michmak  
  
Summary: Sara and Nick are the only ones that make an appearance in this story. Lots of angst, relationship stuff.  
  
Dedicated: to Sylphide, LissaMarie, Cocoa, Faith, Rya, Emily and all the other people I forgot to mention who keep requesting more Sara and Nick from me. I've been on a Grissom/Sara tear lately, but I hope this will do for you.  
  
Disclaimer: The only characters I own are the ones I create for the purpose of this story. All the rest? Not mine.  
  
_____  
  
"I am one - who am I. I am one - who am I?" Nick woke in a cold sweat, hands scrabbling on the cool formica table top as he looked wildly around the lounge. Great - just great. He had fallen asleep while drinking his coffee, and had slid into the dream.  
  
Nick grimaced as he looked at his empty mug, turned on its side, a puddle of coffee tracing across the table top. Shit. Sighing to himself, he walked to the counter and grabbed some paper towel, sopping up the mess before pouring himself a new cup. It was a slow night, for which Nick didn't know whether to be grateful or not. He was burning the candles at both ends lately, unable to sleep, working himself to the bone at night, trying to forget.  
  
But it was too hard. He couldn't forget anything. And that had always been his problem - the things he didn't want to remember he'd never forget. Like movies, the minute he let his guard drop, images and smells - colors and sounds - would flicker through his mind relentlessly, like some personal horror show that he was the star of.  
  
Nick stared numbly into his coffee cup as he drained the hot liquid, gagging slightly at the burnt heat of it searing his throat. Down the hallway he could here the muted laughter of Warrick, Greg and Sara, and he wondered what the fuck was so humorous. He shut his eyes again and leaned against the counter top, feeling the ridge digging painfully into his lower back, smiling. Pain was good - proved he was still alive.  
  
He wondered idly if the dreams would ever stop. For awhile, he thought he had a handle on his own personal demons. The nightmares had been so infrequent, he had almost convinced himself they were gone - disappeared and never to return. But of course, he had been a naïve fool to believe that - and what else was new? Just when he felt like he was dragging himself out of the muck, something happened to push him even deeper in.  
  
It had been a helluva year: Kristy's death, Nigel stalking him, pushing him out a window and than murdering that psychic in Nick's own fucking house. And if that wasn't enough, his mother had sent him a letter. A charming epistle filled with love and news from his home town - a gossipy little tome brimming with such innocent Nick hadn't even realized it has a ticking bomb in disguise. His mother had sucker punched him, and she didn't even know it. "Thanks, Mom," he smiled grimly as he saluted his mother with his empty mug.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Hey Nick. We were thinking of going out for breakfast. Want to join us?" Sara's voice was unexpectedly cheerful, making Nick wince.  
  
Plastering a smile to his stiff face he turned to her and drawled, "Nah, thanks. I'm going apartment hunting this morning."  
  
Sara tilted her head sideways, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Apartment hunting? You moving?"  
  
*Duh!* Nick thought, but he didn't say it. Instead he shrugged, "Just temporarily. I have a big hole in my ceiling. Remember?" His tone was perhaps more sarcastic than absolutely necessary, and he hoped Sara wouldn't notice. Of course, hope was for idiots.  
  
"Do you want to stay with me until it gets fixed? I have an extra room." Sara's offer took Nick completely by surprise. He stared at her in shock for a moment, shaking his head as if to clear his ears.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"You can stay with me if you want. I - have - a -spare - room." Sara's tone was deliberately slow, as if she was talking to a small child. Her eyes flashed teasingly at him. Despite himself, Nick smiled.  
  
"Why, Sara Sidle, are you suggesting we live together?"  
  
Sara laughed at the sudden flirtatious gleam in Nick's eye - much better than the blankness she had been surprised to see there earlier, and she nodded her head. "Sure, why not? I've never lived with a *man* before." She dropped her tone, her voice deliberately husky as she flirted right back, smiling when she saw Nick's pupils dilate. "So, what do you say? We can move you in today if you want."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara was standing in his living room looking up at the gaping wound in his ceiling. "Jesus - I forgot this was so big. "  
  
Nick's gaze followed hers, and he shrugged, trying to keep it light. When he closed his eyes, he could still see Pearson lying dead in the center of his carpet, Nigel Crane standing above him like some demented avenging god. The image was burned on the inside of his eyelids like a negative. Nick blinked quickly. "Yeah."  
  
"So, what do you want to take, Nick? I'll help you pack."  
  
"I guess my CD's and my movie collection. I won't be at your place long enough to warrant taking the entertainment unit, though. And clothes, I guess. He shuddered when he said this, and Sara looked at him oddly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What what?"  
  
"Why the shudder when you said you needed to pack your clothes?"  
  
Nick looked at his feet, quickly composing his face before he responded. "I'm planning on buying some new ones."  
  
"You're replacing your entire wardrobe?" Sara's tone was incredulous, and she looked at Nick askance.  
  
Nick just shrugged. "Yeah. It's time to update my image."  
  
"Your image is fine." Sara narrowed her eyes and studied Nick. She realized he was wearing a shirt and a pair of chino's she'd never seen before, and her mind started racing. "Those are new."  
  
Nick squirmed uncomfortably. "So?" He tried to keep his voice neutral as he walked to his CDs and started placing them in an empty milk crate he had grabbed from the front closet.  
  
Sara sighed, her brow furrowed as she puzzled the riddle. Nick could practically hear her mind ticking. Sara's brain was like the workings of a high-priced Swiss watch, and he tried not to look at her as she studied him.  
  
"It's because of Nigel, isn't it?" Her question was soft, but it still managed to cut him like a knife. He tried not to tense at the sudden whispered name, keeping his shoulders loose as he methodically stacked his CDs.  
  
"Why would you say that?"  
  
Sara had moved opposite the milk crate, and was stacking CD's as well. Her hands moved just as deliberately as his were, back and forth, straightening and stacking, slim fingers caressing jewel cases as she carefully thought out her response.  
  
"Because if it was me, I'd be doing the same thing." Her hands were gentle as they reached out and stopped Nick's. He felt the connection all the way to his toes, watching in amazement as his fingers flexed on their own accord around hers. For some reason, he felt like crying.  
  
"I just don't want to wear anything he touched." The admission was more a broken sigh, and he slanted a gaze at Sara from under his eyelids. Behind the blank expression in his eyes, Sara could see burning embers of pain.  
  
"Do you want to shop at the mall after we're finished here? You could use a female perspective - I'll keep you from replacing that hideous olive pullover you have."  
  
Her voice was gently teasing, and Nick smiled in relief when he realized Sara wasn't going to push him. "Yeah. Yeah - that would be nice."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I knew you were a Gap man." Sara snuck another of Nick's New York Fries, grinning.  
  
Nick smiled back. "Not all Gap. I'm not about the name-brands, Sara - I'm about the comfort."  
  
Sara giggled. "You're about wearing tight clothes to show off your chest, Nick. Got to live up to the 'Lady Killer' image, I suppose."  
  
Nick grunted at her. "I happen to like nice clothes. It's not about being a 'Lady Killer'; it's about looking my best."  
  
"You could wear a paper bag, and you'd still be good-looking," Sara retorted, smiling at him, "and you know it. Vanity, thy name is Stokes."  
  
"Alright, alright, knock it off." Nick finished off his last fry, looking at Sara. "So, you think I'm hot, huh?"  
  
Sara started laughing in earnest, her expression teasing as she reached out and felt his forehead with the back of her hand. "Nope, I think you're perfectly fine. Where to now?"  
  
"Uh, socks, and shoes -"  
  
"And underwear!" Sara whispered, smiling gleefully as Nick's ears turned red. "So, Nick, are you a tight-whitey type of guy, or a boxer boy?" They had grabbed their bags, and were headed towards Sears. Nick tried not to let Sara know how embarrassed he was at the thought of buying underwear with her, and shrugged.  
  
"Depends."  
  
"On what?"  
  
"On how hot it is outside and what I'm wearing. Can we change the subject?"  
  
Sara giggled. "Why? I'm fascinated by this one. What does heat have to do with anything?"  
  
Nick just shook his head. She could be so annoying, sometimes. He slanted a sideways glance at her, before responding. "You ever take human anatomy, Sara?" His question confused her for a moment, but her expression quickly cleared and she grinned at him.  
  
"Oh. I see." She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment, before adding. "Personally, I like boxer-briefs myself."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara was yawning vigorously as she fluffed the pillows in the spare room. "Okay, fresh sheets, alarm clock - you need anything else?"  
  
Nick shook his head no as he watched her hands gently smooth out the material on the pillow. He looked at the alarm clock. "Go to bed, Sara. It's almost noon. If you're lucky, you'll catch a good six hours before we have to leave for our next shift."  
  
"What about you, Nick? Aren't you going to sleep as well?"  
  
He shrugged nervously. "Actually - no. If it's alright with you, I'll watch some TV for a little while."  
  
"Suit yourself. You're sure you're alright?"  
  
"Perfectly fine."  
  
"'Night then."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Never tell anyone, Nicky. This will be our secret, okay?" Nicky struggled against the hot hands caressing his skin, his breathing harsh as he tried to push himself away from the moist voice whispering wetly in his ear.  
  
"Don't touch me, please -" Nicky was crying, his eyes squeezed shut. He felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, it was pounding so hard. A clammy hand traveled down his chest, sliding under the hem of his pajama bottoms, and he fought the sudden urge to throw up.  
  
"Stop fighting me, Nicky. Be a good boy. I don't want to hurt you." The voice crooned in his ear, and Nicky suddenly went limp.  
  
"Don't hurt me! Please, don't hurt me." He was trying to be brave, but the tears squeezed out of his eyes, tracking his face. It hurt, it hurt - OH MY GOD - it HURT! Nicky rolled himself up into a ball and closed his eyes, crying for his mother.  
  
Nick bolted straight off the sofa when he felt a hand shaking his shoulder, looking around the room dazedly before focusing on Sara's anxious face. She was looking at him in alarm, and he realized he was crying.  
  
God-FUCKING-damnit! He wanted to scream. He wanted to howl. He wanted to curl up into a ball so tight eventually he would just disappear into himself. Staggering to his feet, he jerked his shoulder away from her hand and just stood there, staring at her blankly, shaking so badly he was afraid he was going to fall down.  
  
"You had a nightmare, Nick." Sara's voice penetrated the thick fog in her brain, and she tentatively reached for him again. He flinched away from her as he felt her fingers touch his arms. He needed to stop shaking. "What's wrong?" She stepped forward again, and the concern in her eyes undid him completely, his tears turned to great shuddering sobs and he grabbed hold of Sara like a drowning man clinging to a rescue line.  
  
Sara almost collapsed at the unexpected weight of Nick slumping into her, but she quickly regained her equilibrium, wrapping her arms around him and stroking his back as he sobbed into her collarbone. "Shh, baby. Shh, it's okay. It's okay." Mumbling soothingly under her breath, she slowly lowered them both to her sofa, rocking him with an instinct absolutely maternal.  
  
They sat there that way for several minutes, Nick's shoulders shaking under the assault of his tears, his voice hoarse with pain. Finally spent, he nuzzled his face into her neck and closed his eyes. Sara continued rubbing his back until the shudders ceased, every once in a while kissing the top of his head and murmuring wordless comfort.  
  
Finally, when he felt strong enough, he sat and looked at her, amazed to see tears staining her face as well. "Why are you crying?" he whispered.  
  
"I'm crying because you were crying. What's going on Nick?"  
  
He tried to smile. "Would you believe me if I just said a bad dream, and left it at that?"  
  
Sara shook her head. "No. No way. I've had nightmares before, but not like that. Does it have anything to do with Nigel?"  
  
Nick shrugged, looking away. "Sort of. The dreams came back because of him, but it's not that simple."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Sara's voice was soft, but she didn't push. She just looked at him, her hands still running lightly up and down his back, waiting.  
  
"I suppose you deserve an explanation." He looked suddenly embarrassed, and Sara felt his shoulders tense.  
  
"You might feel better if you talk about it."  
  
"I got a letter from my mother the other day. The day after Nigel - you know. The day after he killed the psychic at my house." Nick twisted sideways and leaned back into the sofa, Sara moving with him. He smiled sadly when he felt her hand slide into his, and gripped it tightly. "She told me an old - an old babysitter of mine had died in a car accident."  
  
"Oh Nick - I'm sorry. Were you close?"  
  
Nick's answer twisted his smile, making it a grotesque mockery on his face. "Too close." He knew his answer was cryptic, but he was finding it hard to actually say the words.  
  
Beside him, Sara sat silently, hardly daring to breath. Too close? What did that mean? Nick pulled his free hand up, leaning his head against the back of the sofa and throwing his forearm over his eyes. He sighed heavily, and felt Sara squeeze his hand.  
  
"He was a friend of my oldest sister. He only ever babysat me one time, as a favor to her. She was supposed to babysit, but was invited to a party and she really wanted to go. So, he said he'd come over to watch me. Mom and Dad were at some seminar, and the rest of the family was out. I was nine."  
  
He glanced from under his arm, turning his head sideways to study Sara. She was staring at him in growing understanding, biting her lower lip in concern. He saw the sudden flash of comprehension in her expressive eyes, and quickly closed his own against her horror.  
  
"Oh God. Nick - tell me he didn't - he didn't -" Sara was crying suddenly, leaning into him, her tears washing down her face and dripping of her chin unto his shoulders. Suddenly, it was his turn to soothe her.  
  
"It's alright. It was a long time ago. I'd almost forgotten all about it. But this thing with Nigel, and then the letter - it was a shock."  
  
"What did your parents do when you told them? What did your sister do?"  
  
Nick didn't respond, and Sara drew away slightly, frowning. "You did tell them, right? Nick, tell me you told them."  
  
Nick shook his head miserably. "I never told anyone. Catherine once - briefly - but I told her the babysitter was a girl. You're the only person who knows the absolute truth." His thumbs trailed the tracks of her tears, absently wiping them away, his palms caressing the smooth skin of her pale cheeks. "I hope - I hope you won't think any less of me."  
  
"Think less of you? For something you were too little to prevent? God, Nick. If anything, I think more of you." Sara's words were vehement. "You survived without help from anyone. You survived the hard way. But, you need to talk about it, or else it will eat you up inside. Bad memories are just like cancer - if you don't excise them when you have the chance, they can cause a lot of damage."  
  
Nick nodded dumbly. "It's just - I don't feel - it's too hard. You know what I remember the most? His hands. They were clammy. And his breath. Putrid and wet in my ear and on my neck." He shuddered and closed his eyes against the sudden image that assaulted him.  
  
"I was wild when I was a teenager, you know. Gave my parents a lot of grief." If Sara was startled by the sudden change in the conversation, she didn't let it show. Instead, she leaned comfortably into his chest, her fingers absently twirling the fabric of his jeans just above his knees as she tried to get her emotions under control.  
  
"How so?"  
  
Nick laughed, but the sound was bitter. "I was a playboy. One girl after the other, after the other. No concern for their feelings. I was a fucking horndog. I had more brothers gunning for me than Hugh Heffner. I was a slut."  
  
Sara smiled sadly. "You tried to erase what happened to you when you were little by having sex with as many people as you possible could. It's a normal response."  
  
"Nothing normal about it. I remember, there was this one girl - sweet girl. I convinced myself she was the one for me - I convinced myself I loved her, was going to marry her, and would never have to fuck anyone else but her again. I was even engaged to her for a while. But I hurt her, because it wasn't enough. She wasn't enough to erase the touches. I cheated on her more than once, and she never found out. Until the last time - I slept with her sister."  
  
Sara sighed sadly. "That probably went over like a lead balloon."  
  
Nick snorted in pained agreement. "My parents were horrified - her dad wanted to kill me. Half the town was gunning for me. So I left. Decided I needed a fresh start far away from everyone and everything. I moved to Vegas."  
  
"And how did you feel?"  
  
"It worked, after a fact. New people, new places. I never had to worry about running into him on the street. I didn't have to hear my sister talk about him. No one knew me or my reputation, and the nightmares stopped. But then, Kristy died. And then Nigel - and the letter. Best incendiary device ever - mom sends me a letter and one fucking little sentence causes my entire life to implode."  
  
Neither of them said anything for a few moments, Sara absorbing Nick's words and Nick just sitting, comfortable in a way he hadn't been since he received his mother's letter. His fingers were tracing little circles on Sara's shoulders, the cool cotton of her pajama top smooth against his fingers. He wondered what Sara was thinking, but was almost too scared to ask. Finally, because the silence was killing him, he whispered.  
  
"Do you hate me?"  
  
"How could I hate you, Nick?" Sara's response was just as soft. "I've always wondered about you, to be quite honest. You seemed too happy, if you know what I mean. I even asked Warrick once what you were trying to hide, but he told me you were an open book. I never really believed that though."  
  
"It's actually nice to tell someone. I feel a little better."  
  
"You should actually talk to a professional, and work this out. Do you still have problems committing to relationships?"  
  
Nick shook his head. "I haven't been in a relationship in ages. Last one was Kristy - and we all know how that ended." His voice was sad. "And the only other person I'm interested in just sees me as a friend." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he groaned inwardly.  
  
"How do you know she's not interested in you too, Nick? Have you ever asked her?"  
  
"I'm scared to." Nick closed his eyes, whispering so softly she barely heard him. "She's one of my best friends. What if she doesn't love me?"  
  
The silence in the room was so loud, he could have heard a mouse squeak. As it was, he could practically hear the little wheels in Sara's brain spinning, and when he felt her elevated heartbeat through her back against his shoulder, he knew she had figured it out.  
  
He grunted a little as Sara shifted against him, bony elbow digging into his gut as she turned to face him, whispering just as softly, "What if she does?"  
  
Her eyes were fathomless pools of night, swimming with secrets and emotion he knew he would never understand. Nick stared at her, and suddenly felt like he was drowning. He felt his breath hitch in his throat, burning as he forced it out in a loud whoosh of air. Sara had curled her legs up underneath her, and the hand that had been tracing idle patterns on his knee suddenly moved to his shoulder, squeezing it gently.  
  
He closed his eyes tightly against the sudden flame of need sweeping his body, gritting his teeth as he fought the urge to lean into her face and kiss her. He had always thought she was beautiful, and he felt so comfortable with her - almost like he'd known her forever. And now, here he was, in her apartment after sharing emotionally devastating news with her, feeling closer to her than he had felt to anyone in a long time. And all he could think about was stripping her naked and sinking into her, assuaging his aching need in his body much the same as he'd just released the aching pain in his heart.  
  
Sara was still staring at him. He could feel her eyes burning great gaping holes through his skin. He was scared to open up his eyes and look at her again, knowing she would see the sudden urgent desire in his and turn away from him in disgust. Her hand on his shoulder moved idly to his neck and back, fingers sweeping the edge of his collar, and she shifted closer to him.  
  
Nick almost died of shock when he felt her other hand slid to the back of his neck, kneading the base of his head and running through his hair. His heart was hammering triple time, and he managed to rasp her name before he felt her soft lips tentatively touch his own.  
  
With a harsh groan, he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, voraciously attacking her mouth with his own. He nibbled and licked the warm cave of her mouth, tongue sliding over her teeth, greedily pulling hers into his mouth, and sucking. Sara was straddling him, mewling deep in her throat as she attacked his mouth just as eagerly. Her hands were everywhere, down his sides under his shirt, caressing his chest pounding - futile - on his shoulders as she tried to remove his t-shirt.  
  
Nick with a haste he had never known pulled away from her long enough to rip it over his head, tossing it to the floor in a heap. His fingers roughly worked the buttons of men's pajama top she was wearing, pushing it roughly from her shoulders as his mouth traveled down to her newly exposed flesh.  
  
Sara's fingers were on his chest, fingers skating his collarbone and ribcage, nails raking gently over his pectorals. Gasping for air, Nick shifted position, strong hands swiftly divulging her of pajama bottoms. He almost screamed when he heard the soft rasp of his jeans zipper being lowered, and stood abruptly cradling Sara against him as he kicked his legs free of the offending denim.  
  
Shaking so badly he thought he would collapse, he quickly dropped back down to the sofa, Sara still held tightly in his arms. Gasping in surprise, he whispered Sara's name. It was a long time before another conscious thought ran through his mind.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara burrowed into Nick, body lethargic, senses still reeling, and smiled when she felt his arms wrap heavily around her waist. They were crammed tighter than two sardines on her sofa, but neither had the strength to move. Underneath her head, she could hear the firm rhythm of Nick's heart, and she sighed against his skin.  
  
That had been unexpected. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. She smiled again, and ran a slim finger down Nick's side, letting her fingers trail from just under his ribs to the indent just above his hipbone.  
  
Nick stirred, turning his sleepy gaze to hers, smiling at her even as sudden comprehension and fear dawned in his eyes. Sara watched the raw emotion flicker over his face, watching in amazement as he quickly shuttered his eyes, his expression suddenly blank. He was watching her carefully, and Sara recognized his sudden closure as what it was - a well- honed defense mechanism.  
  
"This sofa is not big enough for the both of us." She barely recognized her husky voice, and she smiled when she noted the sudden widening of his pupils. "Want to move into my room?"  
  
Sara's hoarse invitation was hardly what he'd been expecting. He felt an answering smile cross his lips, and a little frisson of pleasure traveled up his spine. But instead of taking her up on her invitation, he sighed.  
  
"I think we should talk about this. About what just happened, I mean." He shifted to his side slowly, careful not to knock Sara right off the sofa. "I'm sorta - in shock."  
  
Sara laughed. "That good, huh?"  
  
Nick turned a bright red, his ears burning. "Well, yeah. But I meant - I didn't mean - what's going on Sara?"  
  
"What do you want to be going on, Nick?" Sara asked, brown eyes suddenly serious.  
  
"I want to explore this, Sara."  
  
She smiled at him then, a dazzling smile that took his breath away. Reaching over the side of the sofa, she grabbed his t-shirt from the floor, pulling it over her head in a casual movement before sliding to her feet. "Come on. We can catch a good hour of sleep before shift starts. Unless you like sleeping on sofas with no sheets."  
  
Nick slid to his feet behind her, suddenly shy and very nervous. "I'm not very good at this sort of thing, Sara."  
  
"What? Sleeping?" Sara's tone was teasing, but her smile was tender. Nick realized he would be a happy man if she would smile like that at him forever.  
  
"Relationships. Love. I always screw things up. I don't ever want to hurt you."  
  
Sara turned around and leaned into him, her mouth inches from his own. "The only thing would hurt me is if you didn't want to try. I know you, Nick. And I'm prepared to face your demons with you, if you want me to. I just want you to know I'll always be here for you. And I'm glad that this happened today - it's been a long time coming."  
  
She gave him a quick kiss, smiling into his mouth before talking his hand in her own. "No more nightmares, Nick. We'll keep them at bay."  
  
______  
  
Author's Note: Okay, I'm getting lots of requests for Sara/Nick, so I thought I'd work on this. It's a thought that's been kicking around in my head for a while now - and since I have an over-active imagination, I thought I'd put words to paper. If it sucks, let me know. Any suggestions to improve it are appreciated. Maybe I'll continue it at a later date; maybe not. 


	2. VISIONS OF YOU

VISIONS OF YOU  
  
Nick loved watching her when she slept. There was something so stunning about her form when she was completely relaxed; an innocence that seeped into her limbs. The moonlight, muted by the slats of the blinds in his bedroom, danced and dappled across her skin like pixie dust.  
  
He had never known he could love someone like this, and while the emotions sometimes threatened to overwhelm him he found that loving Sara was strangely exhilarating. He was still amazed that she would feel the same way about him. For so long, he had considered himself a lost cause - irretrievably broken by the events that had conspired against him; had melded and formed him into the man he had become.  
  
He had been scared almost his entire life. He had hidden it well, though. No one ever suspected that Nick Stokes had demons. When they had looked at him they had seen what he presented to the world - an optimistic, ex-frat boy, a ladies man, a good guy. And Nick kept people from going deeper by keeping the front running pretty much 24/7. Nick was happy to keep it that way. He didn't want anyone to know the real Nick. He didn't want to see the pity in their eyes when they learned about the babysitter; he didn't want anyone to know the suicidal thoughts that sometimes flitted through his mind, staining his soul. So he hid behind a façade, and didn't so much fight his demons as ignore them.  
  
He had become quite adept at denial. He had become quite adept at avoiding commitment. He had become quite adept at living a lie.  
  
His family, of course, knew the truth. Not the entire truth, mind you - he had never told them about the babysitter. But they knew the truth about him - that he was not a good guy. They knew about the many women he had fucked, just because they were there and available. They had not been able to laugh that away with the old 'boys will be boys' excuse.  
  
They knew about the failed suicide attempt when he was sixteen. He could still remember with startling clarity the horror in his parent's eyes when they had first seen him in the hospital, after his stomach had been pumped clean of the drugs he had tried to kill himself with. When his mother had cried out "Why?" his response had been "Why not?"  
  
Nothing had ever really been the same with his family after that. They watched him as if he were a time-bomb, waiting to explode. His parents had forced him back into therapy, desperate to ensure Nick would never do something like that again. His mother had begged him to get help, had cried like a child when she had told him she couldn't survive it if he killed himself. They had laid the mother of all guilt trips on him; and Nick had been trapped.  
  
So, he had gone to the psychiatrist. He had revealed only what he wanted to reveal. He pretended he was getting better. But deep inside, he knew it was all a lie. He was still a little boy, still nine years old. Ashamed. Angry. And scared beyond all belief that someday he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to his mother. Someday, he would snap and it would kill him.  
  
When he had joined the police force, back in Texas, his mother had known the reasons behind it. She hadn't been proud to have a son who was a police officer; she had been fearful. Nick had been a wild cop; hiding his death wish behind his gung-ho, 'let's get the bad guys' mentality. He had purposely put himself in the line of fire so many times his first year on the job it was amazing he was still alive. He had been shot once - a simple arrest gone bad. He and his partner had arrived at a liquor store during a robbery in progress. One of the perps had fled out the back door, running through the back allies of Houston with Nick hot on his tail. They had eventually ended up in a dead end ally, and the perp had pulled a gun. His hands had been shaking so badly, the gun had been wavering all over the place. His voice had cracked when he told Nick to just leave him alone. The perp - who Nick found out later had just turned 19 shot the gun accidentally, the bullet going cleanly through Nick's thigh. When he had realized he had shot a cop, he had turned the gun on himself and blown his brains out. Nick's partner had found him cradling the young man, covered in blood and brains, crying his eyes out.  
  
For the second time in his life, Nick's parents had come to see him in the hospital. When Nick had seen the deep sadness in his mother's eyes, he knew he couldn't be a cop anymore. And so, he had become a CSI. And he had moved away from his family to start anew; on his own and away from their knowledge and their grief. Away from the life he had built for himself that was really no life at all. Away from the angry brothers and fathers; the myriad of women he had slept with - away from his reputation as a loose cannon with a wild streak.  
  
And so it had been. For four years, Nick had built a life in Las Vegas. Away from the tragedy of his past, he could almost convince himself that nothing bad had ever happened to him. He liked to pretend he actually lived the charmed life everyone around him seemed to think he did. He only went back to Texas when he absolutely had to. Visits with his family were sporadic and strained. Communication consisted of a few letters and the odd phone call. And he told himself he was happy.  
  
But Sara - somehow, she had slid through his defenses without even trying, and Nick had never realized she had even done so. They had started off the way Nick started with everyone, laughing, teasing, flirting - presenting the façade. But with her, it was different. When she was around, it wasn't so hard for him to act like he was happy. When she was around, he was content.  
  
And then Nigel had happened. And the letter from his mother. Nick had felt his world had been blown to pieces once again. He had felt himself imploding; had felt himself spinning out of control. The life he had tried so hard to build for himself, his personal world of smoke and mirrors, had started falling apart. And into the midst of all that chaos, Sara had stepped forward. When she had learned he was looking for a place to stay, she had invited him to move in with her.  
  
She had helped him pack, had understood implicitly his need to escape his house and the memories of Nigel, and she hadn't judged him. She hadn't thought him weak. She hadn't thought him crazy. She hadn't pitied him. When she had woken Nick up from a terrifying nightmare, she had allowed him to cry his pain out on her shoulder, providing comfort without questions. Her tears for him had been his undoing. Nick had found himself telling her everything. He told her about the babysitter; about his wild fuck-anything- that-moves days - pretty much everything. It was so easy to talk to her.  
  
And she hadn't judged him. He still remembered how badly he had wanted to taste her that first time; the urgent aching desire he had felt to get as close to her as he physically could. The surprising thing had been she had let him. Knowing what she knew about him, she had still wrapped her arms around him, kissed him, loved him.  
  
And afterwards, when they had been lying on her sofa exhausted and spent, she had gently taken his hand and led him into her bedroom and into her life.  
  
It hadn't been easy. There was so much she didn't know yet - the suicide attempt, the shooting - the nightmares were just the surface. But it hadn't bothered her. She had supported him; she had loved him. At night, when the shakes came - when the demons broke free in his nightmares, she wrapped her body around him and replaced the memories of other hands and other bodies with the imprint of her own. Months had passed, and they were still together. Months had passed, and Nick was no longer hiding.  
  
He was actually becoming the person he had presented to the world for so long. He was happier than he had ever been; more content than he had ever dreamed possible. Looking at the woman lying in his bed, he knew it was because of her. He was whole again because of Sara.  
  
Rolling onto his side, he let his hand brush from her shoulder to her hip, marveling at the softness of her skin and the firmness of her body under that skin. He could see the faint bruising of his hand prints on her hips, where he had gripped her tightly as they had made love earlier that evening. It was rare for them to both have the night off, and they had celebrated.  
  
Leaning into her, he ran the bridge of his nose gently along her collarbone, inhaling deeply as he did so, enjoying the scent of strawberries and Sara. When he felt her hand slide sleepily up his back, he smiled against her breast bone.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered huskily, "I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"Yes you did," she murmured sleepily, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "You having nightmares?"  
  
Nick shifted onto his back, bringing her with him and cradling her against his side. "No, just visions." His hands traced idle patterns on her back, and he smiled when he felt her sigh, before continuing, "Visions of you."  
  
Sara's hand was warm against the flat planes of his stomach, fingers sliding across his navel, dancing across his hip bones before coming to rest at his side. Her arm pressed warmly across his ribcage, and he sighed at the easy weight. He felt her hair pooling around his shoulder, felt her lips as they traced the strong line of his jaw. He heard the gentle rasp of his stubble against the sensitive skin of her mouth; the slight noise sending a hot sizzle of desire to the pit of his belly, and he tightened his hold on her.  
  
"I love you, Sara," he whispered. His hands made increasingly elaborate patterns on her back, and he grunted when she suddenly shifted, her elbow digging momentarily into his side as she half-rolled on top of him.  
  
"I love you too, Nick," she replied. Her fathomless eyes shone with his dreams of the future; her words promising him a life worth living. "I love you too."  
  
___________________________  
  
Author's Note: Finally - a Nick / Sara continuation of Aftermath. This is for all the N/S 'shippers out there who've been asking for a continuation - thanks for the emails and requests. Sorry it took so long, but I hope the wait was worth it! 


	3. CIRCLES

III - CIRCLES

She had never really been attracted to his type before.  Muscular – too good looking for their own good.  In her past experiences, men like him had always had more 'vain than brain', as she and her best friend Claudia used to say.  In high school, jocks like him had always gone for the cheerleaders – popular, impossibly pert girls, who were more bookends than people.  Never the brainy girls.  Never the girls that were too tall and slim and impossibly coltish for their own goods.

Admittedly, in high school, it had hurt somewhat.  After all, what girl, in the first throes of hormonal rushes and boy-crazy awareness, wouldn't notice the 'perfect' boys first?  Sara had quickly discovered that these supposed 'ideals' weren't really ideal.  They were like strutting peacocks, all flashy plumage but nothing really on the inside;  nothing that would keep a girl like her interested in the long run, even if the physical initially appealed.

She had expected the same from him.  When she had first arrived in Las Vegas and met Grissom's team, she had immediately fallen back into her old suppositions, and categorized him as a pretty-boy jock that had probably gotten where he was on looks and charm.

Not that the looks – and the charm – weren't considerable.

Of course, over the years, Sara had learned to deal with men like that – university had been kind to her, and she had turned from an ugly duckling into a swan, growing into her limbs and her face.  Throughout university, and later as she began her career, she had become quite adept at harmless flirting; and deflecting the attention of men like him.  

She expected that her relationship with Nick would be the same – especially after everything she had heard about him from various sources around the lab: ex-frat boy, high school football star; ladies man.  She watched his easy way with people, the way he flirted with everyone, and for a while allowed herself to be fooled by her initial assumptions.  When he flirted with her, she would flirt back – nothing serious, always light, in a tone that clearly said 'just friends'.

When he had gotten involved with Kristy Hopkins, first as a friend and then in a brief one-night affair that had ended in tragedy, she had tried to ignore the small prick of jealousy that had flared briefly in her, tramping it down mercilessly by telling herself she shouldn't have been surprised.

What had surprised her was the way he had reacted to that death.  He had been devastated.  He had hidden it around the lab, retaining his usual charming flirty nature, but in moments of quiet, when he didn't realize anyone was watching, she would see the grief in his eyes.

She had found him in the parking lot a couple of days after Kristy's murder, wearing a dark suit, just sitting in his truck staring at nothing.  She had debated disturbing him, but he had seemed so sad and so lonely, her natural empathy had taken over.

She had knocked on his window, smiling timidly when he turned a shuttered gaze in her direction, before rolling it down.  "Sara."

"Nick."  Awkward silence.  Nick shut his eyes.  "Are you alright, Nick?"

He had rubbed the back of his hand tiredly across his face, "Yeah, Sara.  I'm fine."

"What are you doing."

"Funeral."

"Oh.  I'm sorry.  Anyone I know?"

"Kristy Hopkins."  He had sighed again as he said her name, "If I can convince myself to go."

"Do you need to?"

Nick had looked at her blankly, before smiling grimly, "If I don't, no one will be there to say goodbye to her.  She deserves someone to be there."

It had been Sara's turn to stare at him, "What about her family?  Her friends?"

Nick shrugged, "Nope.  Just me."

"I'll go with you -  no one should have to say goodbye to someone they loved all alone."

As Nick had indicated, no one else was there.  The service – what there was of one – had been very brief, a hymn and a prayer, and the lowering of a beautiful casket into the ground.  The monument was simple and beautiful, just Kristy's name and her year of death on polished black marble.

Sara had held Nick's hand through it all, empathizing with him when he had said to the minister afterwards that Kristy had been remarkable because of her resilience, and her belief that she could change and become a better person.  The minister had listened in silence, before offering, "No one is ever irretrievably broken."

After that day, she and Nick had become close.  She began to see beneath the surface, to the actual man hiding beneath the charm and the looks.  He became a little less guarded around her, and the secrets hidden in his eyes had become harder and harder for her to ignore.

She had realized that beneath the flash, there was a different Nick.  One who had pockets of hidden pain and hidden strengths no one knew about; one who had moments of doubt and regret.  He was more thoughtful than anyone else gave him credit for; more cerebral than any one else realized.  Underneath the good ole' boy façade  was an enigma.

Her attraction for him had grown from there, but she had tamped it down strenuously under the guise of friendship.  She reasoned with herself that even though Nick didn't fit all her preconceived notions, she still wasn't the type of women he would be attracted to.  

And then Nick had been stalked; a man killed in his house, and his life had been turned upside down again.  Sara had watched him with concern as his walls – which she thought had been chipping away – were all of a sudden back up and barricaded.  He stopped talking to her – stopped talking to pretty much everyone, truth be known.  And he always seemed so angry.  No one else seemed to really be too concerned – Grissom said Nick was just working everything all out in his head, and would be back to normal in no time, but Sara wasn't so sure.

She was beginning to think this 'new' Nick was the real one; and that the 'old' happy Nick had been the fake.  He lost weight.  His face became tighter and more drawn, and his eyes – his eyes – she couldn't even look at them anymore without seeing the bruises on his soul.

He was standing in the break room staring broodingly into his coffee cup when she found him about 11 days after Nigel Crane had been arrested.  She had decided to take matters into her own hands, and was planning on forcing him to go to breakfast with her and Warrick.  Pasting a bright grin on her face, she chirped, "Hey Nick. We were thinking of going out for breakfast. Want to join us?"

She noticed Nick wince at her voice, watched with fascination and dread as he assembled his 'happy' face before her eyes, before drawling at her, "Nah, thanks. I'm going apartment hunting this morning."

Sara tilted her head, and cocked an eyebrow at him, analyzing the tight quality of his voice even as she asked,. "Apartment hunting? You moving?"  
Nick shrugged, "Just temporarily. I have a big hole in my ceiling. Remember?"

Sara took a moment to respond, her gaze dropping to his clenched fists, before moving up to take in the tight clench of his jaw.  He looked so belligerent and hurt at the same time, she wanted to go over to him and hug him.  
Instead, she offered him the spare room at her place, keeping her tone light as she did so.  She smiled at the stunned look he tossed her way.

  
"Pardon me?"

  
"You can stay with me if you want. I - have - a -spare - room." She kept her tone deliberately slow, as if she was talking to a small child, trying to tease him out of his dark mood.  Despite himself, Nick smiled.

  
"Why, Sara Sidle, are you suggesting we live together?"

  
Sara laughed at the sudden flirtatious gleam in Nick's eye - much better than the blankness she had been surprised to see there earlier, and tried to ignore the sudden tight feeling in her heart as she nodded her head. "Sure, why not? I've never lived with a *man* before." She dropped her tone, her voice deliberately husky as she flirted right back, smiling when she saw Nick's pupils dilate. "So, what do you say? We can move you in today if you want."

* * * * *  
  
That day had been the start of something.  Going with Nick back to his place to help him pack some of his things, seeing the large hole in the ceiling of his living room had shown her again how close she had come to losing him.

She had kept the tone deliberately light as they went shopping for new clothes to replace his wardrobe, and she had even teased him about underwear preference.  The light-hearted banter they shared merely masked the depth of the pain Nick was feeling and her own tight concern.  No matter how hard he tried to hide it, Sara could see that he was on the verge of a breakdown.

Things had gotten incredibly tense when they got back to her place.  Sara had helped him set up the spare bed, but despite his obvious weariness, he had decided to stay up and watch TV.  Reluctantly, Sara had gone to her own room, falling into a troubled sleep.

The muffled whispers, followed by the harsh yell from her living room, woke her up abruptly not even an hour later and sent her running into her living room.  Nick was on the sofa, tossing and turning, obviously in the throes of a nightmare, and she rushed over, gently touching his shoulder.

He was on his feet so fast, eyes haunted and fists lifted, Sara thought he was going to hit her before he was fully awake.  When he jerked his shoulder away from her hand, his eyes desolate and wet with tears, she had wanted to cry.

"You had a nightmare, Nick." She tentatively reached for him again, "What's wrong?"

It was like watching a dam break.  Nick turned to her, falling into her arms so suddenly she almost collapsed at his unexpected weight.  She could feel great, racking shudders shaking him like a rag as she lowered them both to her sofa and wrapped her arms around him, mumbling gentle words of comfort as she stroked his back and cried with him.

They sat there until the storm subsided, and neither had anymore tears to cry. She could feel Nick nuzzling his face into her neck and closed her eyes against the strong surge of emotion that almost overwhelmed her, rubbing his back until his shuddering ceased.  
Finally, he lifted his head from her neck and looked at her. "Why are you crying?"

   
"I'm crying because you were crying. What's going on Nick?"

  
And he had told her.  Everything.  In a leaden voice, keeping his eyes shut the majority of the time, he told her about the babysitter who had raped him.  She had cried again, for the little boy Nick had been and the man he had become, and it had been his turn to comfort her.

Wiping her tears gently with his thumbs, he had whispered, "I hope you don't think any less of me."

He had told her about his wild youth, when he had slept with as many women as he could, trying to erase the feel of those other hands on his body; his parents dismay at his attitude and his move to Las Vegas to escape the memories and his reputation.  

Neither of them said anything for a few moments, Sara absorbing Nick's words and Nick just sitting, tracing little circles on Sara's shoulders through the cool cotton of her pajamas.

   
"Do you hate me?" he finally whispered softly.

  
"How could I hate you, Nick?" Sara's response was just as soft. "But you should actually talk to a professional, and work this out. Do you still have problems committing to relationships?"

  
Nick had shaken his head. "I haven't been in a relationship in ages. Last one was Kristy - and we all know how that ended." His voice was sad. "And the only other person I'm interested in just sees me as a friend."

   
His words went right to Sara's heart, and she leaned closer, trying to see if he had meant that the way it had sounded. "How do you know she's not interested in you too, Nick? Have you ever asked her?"

  
"I'm scared too." Nick closed his eyes, whispering so softly she barely heard him. "She's one of my best friends. What if she doesn't love me?"

  
Sara could feel her heart stop, before quickly speeding up and beating wildly inside her chest.  Shifting slightly, digging her elbow into his stomach as she turned to look at him, she whispered back just as softly, "What if she does?"

She was staring at him intently, slim fingers tracing idle patterns on the knee of his jeans, before moving up to his shoulder and squeezing it gently.  She could feel the muscle jump in response to her touch, and allowed a small sigh to escape her.  He had shut his eyes tightly against her, almost as if he couldn't believe – or couldn't accept – what Sara was offering him. 

  
Sara marveled as her hand drifted to his neck and back, fingers sweeping the edge of his collar before scraping the nape of his neck as she shifted closer to him.  Her other hand rose up his back and she started running her fingers through his hair.  She smiled at the need she saw in his eyes when he finally opened them to look at her, and silenced the harsh whispered _'Sara' that escaped his lips with a soft kiss._

   
The fire that swept threw them both was intense and completely unexpected. She wanted to drown in his kiss, and allowed him full access to her mouth, reveling at the incredible sensation of his tongue sweeping across her teeth and the inside of her mouth, before sweeping her own tongue to mate with his, sucking it hotly into his own.  

Sara felt like she was going up in flames.  She had never experienced such intense sensation before from just a kiss.  Straddling his lap, she could feel the heat pooling deep in the pit of her stomach as she rocked against him, running her hands up underneath his shirt, palms caressing his tight pebbly nipples, as she tried – without success – to remove it. 

   
Nick pulled away from her long enough to rip it over his head, tossing it to the floor in a heap. His fingers roughly worked the buttons of the men's pajama top she was wearing, pushing it roughly from her shoulders as his mouth followed the path his fingers had just taken over her flesh.

  
Sara's fingers were on his chest, fingers skating his collarbone and ribcage, nails raking gently over his pectorals.  The feel of Nick's mouth and tongue on her breasts left her mewling with need.  When his fingers slipped below the hem of her pajama bottoms, she lifted her hips off his lap and against his chest to facilitate his ripping them off her, before her hands traveled to the opening of his jeans.  

She could hear his harsh groan as she quickly lowered the zipper, and almost cried in sheer exaltation when he abruptly rose to his feet, cradling her against him, as he kicked them off.  Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and her arms tightly around his neck, she smiled into his neck as he lowered her quickly back to the sofa, whispering her name like a benediction as his body finally found it's way home. 

* * * * *

Afterwards, lying on her sofa, one of her legs thrown over Nick's waist anchoring him to the sofa, she smiled when she felt his arms wrap heavily around her waist. Her head was pressed up against his chest, and she could feel the firm rhythm of his heart under her ear, synchronized to the beat of her own.

   
Nick always managed to surprise her.  He was so warm against her, the spicy smell of his shampoo blended with the musky scent she would forever associate with him. Her limbs felt like they had been liquefied, and she sighed as she ran a hand down his side, trailing her fingers from under his ribs to the indent just above his hipbone.

  
Nick stirred, murmuring her name huskily, turning his sleepy gaze to hers, his entire body relaxed and eyes unguarded in a way she had never seen before.  As he drifted into full-alertness, the peace radiating off him in waves changed to something tenser, his eyes flickering through a gamut of emotions – tenderness, wonder, comprehension – and lastly fear, before he managed to shutter them.  Sara recognized his sudden closure as what it was - a well- honed defense mechanism.

Smiling tenderly at him, keeping her gaze locked with his even as her hands continued their light exploration of his chest , she whispered huskily, "This sofa is not big enough for the both of us." 

The only sign that Nick was surprised was the sudden flaring of his nostrils and dilation of his pupils. "Want to move into my room?"

  
Nick gulped, "I think we should talk about this. About what just happened, I mean.  I'm sorta - in shock."

  
"That good, huh?"  Sara laughed when Nick blushed, trying to keep it light, even though she knew that everything hinged on these next few moments and how she handled him.

  
"Well, yeah. But I meant - I didn't mean - what's going on Sara?"

  
"What do you want to be going on, Nick?" she replied seriously.

  
"I want to explore this, Sara."

  
His words were so soft and tentative, she wouldn't have heard them if she hadn't been plastered to his side. Reaching over the side of the sofa, she grabbed his t-shirt from the floor, pulling it over her head in a casual movement before sliding to her feet. "Come on. We can catch a good hour of sleep before shift starts. Unless you like sleeping on sofas with no sheets."

  
Nick slid to his feet behind her, unable to hide the longing in his eyes as he looked at her smile. "I'm not very good at this sort of thing, Sara."

  
"What? Sleeping?" Sara teased tenderly.

   
"Relationships. Love. I always screw things up. I don't ever want to hurt you."

  
Sara turned around and leaned into him, her mouth inches from his own. "The only thing that would hurt me is if you didn't want to try. I know you, Nick. And I'm prepared to face your demons with you, if you want me to. I just want you to know I'll always be here for you. And I'm glad that this happened today - it's been a long time coming."

  
She gave him a quick kiss, smiling into his mouth before talking his hand in her own. "No more nightmares, Nick. We'll keep them at bay."  
  


* * * * *

There was still so much she needed to learn about him.  After their first time together, Nick had given up pretense of staying in the spare bedroom and moved into her room with her.

It had been a new experience, sharing her home and her bed with someone.  With Nick.  The first few weeks had been intense – they couldn't get enough of each other, and Sara reveled in it.  She had never thought of herself as an overly sexual person before, but Nick soon dispelled that belief.

She couldn't get enough of him – the feel of his arms around her, his hands stroking her.  The shape of his body and the way the muscles flexed and splayed whenever he moved.  The way he smelled.  His skin.  She loved his skin: the texture and feel – so different from her own.  

On their third night together, she discovered the small puckered scar on either side of his left thigh.  She recognized a gun shot wound when she one, but she didn't ask.  She knew Nick would tell her about it when he was ready.  Instead, she had spent a good 15 minutes, stroking it and kissing it, showing him with her hands and mouth how much she regretted this hurt done to his body.

The scars on his psyche were harder to heal, though.  Some nights, Nick would wake in a cold sweat, and Sara knew he had dreamed again.  The dreams were frequent at first, as if Nick – by opening the door on his memories – had opened the floodgates.  The nights when he dreamed, Sara would wake him, and try to erase with her hands and her body the memories of those other hands, and the other body that had hurt him.

But the dreams became less intense as time passed, and the person that Nick had always pretended he was became more and more real as the bad memories were replaced with good ones.

They tried to keep their relationship a secret from the others at work not wanting to put more pressure on themselves than there already was, but it was harder to do than they had anticipated.  It was hard pretending nothing was going on when Nick couldn't walk by her without casually touching her and vice versa.  And there were other clues.

Grissom asked her point blank about a week into their relationship if they were actually 'seeing each other socially outside of work'.  Sara had tried to play it cool, arching an eyebrow at him. 

"He's staying with me, Grissom, until his house is fixed."

Grissom merely gazed at her, expression inscrutable.  "That doesn't answer my question."

"What makes you think there's anything else going on?"

"Other than the fact that you keep touching each other when you think no one is looking?  The fact that you're driving to work separately.  We all know he's staying with you – if it was just friends, you'd drive in together.  Driving separately indicates you're trying to hide something – namely, a relationship."  He cocked an eyebrow at her, "Am I right?"

Sara's non-response was all the answer he needed.  "Don't hurt him Sara.  I don't think he could take it if you did."

"What if he hurts me?" she had replied back.

"He won't."

* * * * *

Nick was sleeping on the sofa, stereo playing softly in the background, when Sara got home from shift.  He had had the night off, and had spent it re-organizing his house.  The ceiling had been repaired, and after much discussion, they had both decided she would move in with him.  His place was bigger for one thing, and he owned it, whereas her apartment was just a rental.

They had moved her stuff in over the weekend, and Nick had obviously spent great time this evening rearranging his disc collection, making room for her CDs in his large CD unit.  He had hung a couple of her pictures up, including her favorite _'Boulevard of Broken Dreams' – James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis and Bogart in a '60s style soda shop – right over his sofa._

Nick stirred sleepily and opened his eyes, smiling when he saw her.  "Hey – you're home."

"What are you doing sleeping out here on the sofa?" she asked, waking over to him and falling easily into his arms when he grabber her and pulled her down to join him.

"Waiting for you," he replied, kissing her gently.  "The bed is too big without you in it."

 "And this sofa is not big enough for the both of us." Sara grinned, remembering the first time she had said that too him.

Nick's nostrils flared, and he smiled at her in appreciation, "Want to move into my room?"

"You know I do," she whispered back, but neither of them moved.  Nick stroked his hands lazily up and down her back, and Sara burrowed deeper into his chest.

"I love you Sara."

"I love you, too, Nick."  
  


___________________________

Author's Note:  Okay, I've finally done a Sara-centric chapter to for Aftermath.  This is absolutely the last one I'm writing for this story.  I hope you all enjoy it – please R&R and let me know if you do!

Let me quote the late, great Harry Chapin here, from the song **Circles:**

_I've found you a thousand times, I guess you've done the same_

_But then we'll lose each other_

_It's just like children's games_

_As I see you here again, the thought runs through my mind_

_Our love is  like a circle,_

_Let's go round one more time._


End file.
